


We Can Reach The Sea

by maturegambino



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Firefighter AU, Lesbian AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2020-05-15 15:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19298158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maturegambino/pseuds/maturegambino
Summary: Trixie’s roommate has a mishap in the kitchen, and it brings a certain firefighter into her life.Title is taken from the song Black Wave/Bad Vibrations by Arcade Fire.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> I’ve been missing for a while due to a turbulent time in my personal life, but I’m feeling better so I’m trying to find my way back into writing. I’m not ready to carry on with my lawyer fic just yet, so I thought I’d start with this little thing.  
> Please leave me a comment and tell me what you think! Or talk to me on Tumblr, @gambinoisgrown.  
> Thanks :)

“Trixie!” She rolls her eyes when she hears the yell from the kitchen, and sets down her eyeshadow palette.

“What, Monét?” she shouts, leaning back in her chair to try and see down the hall.

“The oven!”

“I told you I didn’t want any dinner–”

“No, no, the oven!” Monét skids into view along the hardwood floor, and a plume of smoke billows behind her. She’s wearing a traditional African dress, floaty and covered in intricate yellow and orange patterns, which flaps around the pair of thick white New Balance sports socks clinging to her lower leg. “It’s on fire!”

“What the f–” Trixie is up out of her seat before she finishes her own sentence, flinging herself down the hall towards the smoke, breasts bouncing heavily in her bra. When she gets to the kitchen the smoke is thickening, and a sizeable fire is burning brightly on the stove. “Call 911!”

Monét fumbles for her phone, tapping at it viciously. “It’s dead!”

“Get towels! Wet towels!” Trixie shouts as she runs back to her room and snatched up her cell phone.

“Do you require police, fire or ambulance?”

“Fire!” she barks down the phone, watching frantically as Monét hurries out of the bathroom with towels.

“Hold on, I’ll connect you.”

“Fire Department.”

“Hi, my oven is on fire in my kitchen.”

“Where? What’s the address?”

Trixie tries to breathe. “Number 6, Hampton Court apartments.”

“South Swenson Street?”

“Yeah. How soon will you be here?”

The man’s voice is calm. “I’m sending a truck now ma’am. Are you stuck? How big is the fire? Stay on the line.”

“Okay.” Trixie tries to keep the tears welling in her eyes from dripping down her face. “It’s not that big, I don’t think. It hasn’t spread.”

“Okay great. Wet towels on it if you can. The truck is on its way.”

She keeps talking to the operator on speaker as she helps Monét, and soon enough they hear sirens down the street. There are heavy footsteps drumming on the stairs, then a loud knock.

“Vegas Fire & Rescue!”

Monét runs to open the door, and Trixie hangs up the phone. “In there, in the kitchen!” she hears Monét tell them, and then four firefighters are trooping into the room, three tall, one significantly shorter than the rest, all of them bulked up with equipment. The tallest one pulls her to one side while the other three get to work on the fire, and pulls off his mask and helmet so he can talk.

“My name is Dan Thomas. Can you tell me what happened?”

Trixie lets Monét explain as her eyes stray to the firefighters at work. They’ve already put out the fire and pulled the oven away from the wall, and the smaller one is crouched round the back of it looking through the mechanics. Time passes quickly as she watches, and before she knows it they’re packing up to leave. They all take off their helmets and masks, and Trixie rolls her eyes when Monét swoons as one of the men shakes her hand, his big hand engulfing hers. She turns, and her jaw drops when a woman with short blonde hair and a pale face (presumably, underneath the dirt) tugs her goggles away from her eyes and smiles at Trixie.

“All sorted,” she says, rubbing her palm on her pants before holding it out for Trixie to shake. Her hand is big, too, and the veins on the top of it have risen with her exertion. Her eyes are a piercing blue, and she has a perfect set of bright white teeth. “My name is Katya. Keep an eye on your friend when she’s cooking from now on!” She laughs, draws her hand away, and follows her colleagues out of the door and down the stairs, leaving Trixie struck dumb in her wake, still slack-mouthed and wide-eyed.

“Man, firefighters are sexy as  _fuck_ ,” Monét sighs, flopping down on the couch and propping her socked feet on the coffee table. “That one that shook my hand, mama, he was giving me  _everything_ when he looked at me–” She’s cut off by a sharp rap on the door, and Trixie shakes herself out of her daze.

“Who’s there?”

“Vegas Fire.”

It’s the woman’s voice. Katya. Trixie barely remembers, she’d been too focus on the rough skin of the woman’s warm palm and how firm and steady her grip had been. “Come in!” She hisses out of the side of her mouth at Monét, who’d smirked at how high Trixie’s voice had gone. Katya opens the door and walks in, smiling sheepishly. She’s taken her heavy kit off and is just wearing a tight blue t-shirt that’s wracked with sweat and straining a little over her biceps.

“I forgot my helmet,” she mumbles, gesturing towards the kitchen counter. Trixie turns and stumbles over, grabs the sooty yellow helmet and carries it back to Katya. She takes the helmet, and Trixie watches the muscles in her chest and shoulders shift and twitch under the shirt. “Thank you.” She gropes deep in one of her many pants pockets, pulls out an ashy scrap of paper, and presses it into Trixie’s palm. “Call me,” she grins, then spins on her heel and leaves, dropping the helmet onto her head as she walks, and Trixie hurries to shut the door behind her as Monét starts to whoop embarrassingly loudly from the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really gay. I kind of love it.
> 
> I turned on anon messages on tumblr so if you’re shy you can now still come say hi :)

“Ugh, I can’t do this.” Trixie stops in her tracks, hauling Monét back in the process where their arms are linked. “This is ridiculous, it’s too gay.”

Monét huffs. “This was your idea. Come on, they’ll love it!”

“No, no no no,” Trixie shakes her head, tugging on Monét’s arm. “It’s so cliché, like, in the real world who actually takes a basket of muffins to some firefighters as a thank you?”

“Well not us, because as neither of us can bake for shit we made them a lasagne,” Monét snaps. “Now–”

“I didn’t call her,” Trixie frets, chewing at a fingernail on her spare hand, “she told me to call and it’s been two days, I haven’t called, what if she–”

“Come _on_ ,” Monét butts in, “we are fifteen yards away from the firehouse, you are not backing out on me now.”

Trixie’s scowls as she lets herself be frog-marched along the sidewalk, sighing dramatically when Monét drags her into the building and knocks gently on a fire truck as she enters.

“Hello?” she calls out, the tote bag filled with trays of lasagne swinging by her side. “Anyone here?”

There’s a squeak of rubber on metal then a strange slithering noise behind them, and as they turn a man slides to the bottom of the gleaming silver pole in the corner of the room. He jumps off with a grin, and makes his way towards them. “Hi there!”

“Hi!” Monét simpers at him, and Trixie rolls her eyes. “I didn’t realize you actually used those things.” She bats her eyelashes exaggeratedly, and Trixie makes a retching noise in the back of her throat. Monét shoots her a dark look.

“Oh yeah, all the time,” he laughs. His eyes are drawn to the bag Monét is holding. “Whatcha got there?”

“Some of your colleagues helped us out the other night when my friend here set our oven on fire,” Trixie interrupts before Monét can say anything, earning another glare. “We brought some lasagne as a small thank you. We wanted to bring muffins or cookies, but neither of us can bake.”

“Wow, that’s awesome!” He gives them a huge smile, and takes the bag from Monét as he calls over his shoulder, “heads up! Thank you food in the house!”

There’s a yell from somewhere above them, then one by one, eight firefighters slide down the pole, laughing and eager. They each come over to greet Trixie and Monét, grab some lasagne and thank them. Trixie‘s watching a big burly guy with salt and pepper hair wink at Monét when she feels a tap on her shoulder.

“Hi.”

She spins round, and almost drops the food she’s holding. “Katya! Hi!” She winces at the exclamation marks she can hear in her voice, and tries to dial it down. “Here, take some food, we brought it as a thank you for your help the other night.”

Katya smiles, taking the box gently, and Trixie melts. “Thanks so much, you didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s no problem, really, it’s–” Trixie’s voice trails off as Katya holds her gaze steadily, a soft smile still stretching her lips a little. “Listen,” Trixie starts, taking Katya’s arm and pulling her to one side, “I–”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Katya cuts her off with a laugh, “it’s totally fine.”

“No no, I wanted to say–” Trixie takes a breath, “I’m sorry. I wanted to call. I just... didn’t know what to say.”

Katya studies her for a second, and Trixie has to force herself to maintain eye contact, not to shrink away from Katya’s scrutiny. “Do you know what to say now?”

“I–” Trixie blinks. Monét lets out an over-the-top peal of laughter in the background, and Trixie cringes. “Go out with me?” She feels her face flush with embarrassment at how high and unsure her voice sounds, and her blush deepens when Katya laughs.

“Yeah darlin’, I’ll go out with you,” she smiles, her fingers toying with the corner of the lasagne tray in her hands. “I get off at nine. Text me and I’ll come meet you, yeah?” She doesn’t wait for an answer before turning and sauntering away, and Trixie breathes out for the first time in minutes, a huge grin settling on her face.

-

The purplish lighting from the stage is starting to hurt Trixie’s eyes as she nurses her dirty martini and checks the time on her phone again. She opens Facebook and is part way into an intense stalk of her Dad’s boss’s niece’s wedding photos when a beer glass drops heavily onto her table with a _thunk_. She looks up, to see Katya looming over her, grinning brightly.

“Sorry I’m late,” she shrugs, kissing Trixie on the cheek as though they’ve known each other forever before flopping down onto the bench seat against the wall. She smells like ash and Paco Rabanne cologne. It makes Trixie want to kiss her. “Small class B down toward Spring Valley came in right as I was washing up. Let me get you a drink to make it up to you.” She glances down at Trixie’s glass. “A dirty martini?” She’s up again and off to the bar before Trixie can say a word, and her mouth is still agape a few minutes later when Katya returns. She shuts it.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She takes a sip of her drink, and when she looks up, Katya is staring at her. She tugs at her skirt a little nervously, and shifts in her seat. “What? Do I have something on me?”

Katya laughs. “No. You just look beautiful.” She glances around the bar and misses Trixie’s blush. “This is cool. Don’t Tell Mama? Is that what it’s called? I’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah, it’s great. The musicians are amazing, and they have singing bar and wait staff. They do open mic, too, I’ve sang here before.”

Katya’s neck cricks with how quickly she looks back at Trixie. “You sing?”

“A little,” Trixie smiles. Katya looks at her thoughtfully.

“Sing now,” she says finally, swilling her beer round her glass a little.

Trixie smirks at her. “Maybe next time.”

Katya lets out a happy bark of laughter. “Sounds perfect.”

Trixie’s smile doesn’t leave her face for the rest of the night; she laughs at Katya’s blatantly fictional stories of rescuing kittens and goats and bears from trees, she glows when Katya’s fingers stroke gently over her knuckles where she holds her glass, and her stomach floods with butterflies when Katya’s foot slides up the inside of her calf under the table. The music from the piano is beautiful, it sends goosebumps rising across her skin, and each of the singers have sang perfectly. She’s finishing off her fourth cocktail while Katya heads to the bar, when she notices Katya change course and walk towards the pianist, a twenty dollar bill in her hand. Trixie watches as Katya murmurs in the man’s ear, and he nods before taking the bill from her fingers. She goes to bar, and returns five minutes later with their drinks.

“Try my beer, baby.” Trixie tries not to swoon. “It’s called Wild Turkey!” Katya snorts, then takes a deep swig from it. The pianist settles in to a new number, and Katya sets her beer down to offer Trixie her hand. “Dance with me.” Her eyes are serious now, and she looks calm, but Trixie sees the hope in her face.

“I don’t know–”

“Please dance with me,” Katya asks again, but it doesn’t really come out like a question. Trixie rises to her feet without another word.

They dance slowly in the middle of the bar, the only ones doing so. Trixie’s breasts are pressed tight to Katya’s firm chest, and Katya has a hand steady and firm in the small of Trixie’s back. Trixie leans her chin on Katya’s shoulder, and begins to sing softly. “ _And when you smile, the world is brighter_ ,” her voice is barely a whisper in Katya’s ear, “ _you touch my hand, and I’m a king_.” Katya’s hand on her back twitches, and pulls her even closer. “ _Your kiss to me is worth a fortune,_ ” Katya pulls her head back to look Trixie in the eyes, “ _your love for me is everything_ –” Katya kisses Trixie as the music swells, before she can sing another line, holds her in her arms in the middle of an empty dance floor in a dark bar and kisses her until she can’t think straight, pushes her tongue through Trixie’s lips and drags a guttural moan from Trixie’s throat when she’s done.

Her strong, warm hands cup Trixie’s jaw as she stares at her. “Come home with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in the chapter is of course The Wonder Of You bun Elvis Presley. What other artist would I feature in a Vegas fic?! Please let me know your thoughts/feelings in the comments or on tumblr @gambinoisgrown thank youuu


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry this has taken so long, enjoy the (very) long awaited end.

They stumble through the door in the darkness, Trixie pushing her hands up the front of Katya’s t-shirt to stroke her stomach, scratching her nails through the thin trail of hair leading down from Katya’s belly button. She catches sight of Katya’s uniform draped haphazardly over the arm of the couch, and beyond that a shabby, but tidy apartment, before she’s shoved against the wall and there’s a hot, probing tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She kisses Katya back just as vigorously, her fingers grappling at Katya’s waistband as a groan is ripped from her throat when Katya winds her hands into Trixie’s hair and tugs. Her lips find their way to Trixie’s neck and she bites down, sucking deep, heavy kisses down to Trixie’s collarbone as she reaches round and yanks the zip of Trixie’s dress down.

“Mmpf–ow,” Katya grunts when she bangs her hip into some shelves, dragging Trixie through the apartment to her bedroom. They fall onto the bed and Katya pushes a knee between Trixie’s legs, grinding up into where she can feel Trixie is warm and wet. She feels Trixie’s hips thrust upwards, and drives her knee hard against Trixie’s pussy, swallowing her deep moans as they kiss sloppily, open mouthed and so dirty. She can feel Trixie sweating and twisting underneath her, whining and gasping for breath while Katya keeps kissing her, scratching across Katya’s neck as her orgasm builds. “Come for me, baby,” Katya rasps into Trixie’s ear, and she keens desperately, hips undulating and straining towards Katya’s knees as she comes. When Katya rolls off her, Trixie is beaming.

“Fucking a firefighter is so fucking hot,” she laughs, shimmying out of her dress and stretching out in her underwear. She catches Katya staring, eyes roaming over her body, and grins. Her matching bra and panties are a purple-y color, lace with dark patterning, and they’d cost her a fortune from Bluebella. Worth every cent for the look on Katya’s face. “Wanna take ‘em off?” she teases, giggling when Katya nods, wide-eyed, without looking away from where her tits are spilling out of the bra.

“Yeah,” she croaks, wrapping her hands round Trixie’s hips and pulling her close, “yeah.”

-

The smell of coffee wafting through the door is what wakes Trixie the next day. She rolls over in the clean white sheets, naked, her muscles sore and stiff from being bent into every position imaginable through the night as Katya fucked her good. She stretches, bending her feet back and forth and wiggling her toes, lifting her arms above her head and arching her back as she yawns. Her breasts are drawn up to her chin as she unfolds her body, and when she relaxes again they flop down heavily above the comforter, her nipples peaked in the chilly morning air.

“Good morning,” Katya smirks from the doorway, eyes zeroing in on Trixie’s tits, a cup of steaming coffee in each hand. “The girls are up, I see.”

“You moron,” Trixie scoffs, rolling her eyes and making grabby hands at the coffee. “C’mere.” Katya laughs and climbs onto the bed precariously, shuffling along on her knees and passing Trixie her cup before she settles down at her side. They sip quietly, sharing shy glances every so often, content in the silence of the cold February morning. Trixie jolts a little when Katya puts her cup on the nightstand, having been lost in her own thoughts, and she jumps again when she feels Katya’s rough, warm palm sliding up her thigh under the sheets.

“Put that down,” Katya murmurs into her ear, her free hand guiding Trixie’s cup onto the other nightstand, while her tongue traces gentle patterns down Trixie’s neck. She nips the skin every so often, leaving tiny red marks, as she snakes down to wrap her lips around Trixie’s nipple.

“Fuck,” Trixie sighs at the feeling of Katya’s warm, wet tongue flicking over her nipple, before she switches gears and starts to suck and bite feverishly, hands groping at Trixie’s hips and thighs. Trixie grabs her wrists and stills them, twisting to the side and pushing Katya over onto her back. She straddles Katya’s hips and leans down to kiss her, her tits pressing down into Katya’s chest.

“Baby,” Katya whispers as Trixie starts to trail gentle kisses down her body, lips feather light against her cold skin, leaving a path of goosebumps and hairs standing on end in her wake. Katya groans as Trixie parts her legs, leaning down to nose through the coarse pubic hair flanking her labia. “Please.”

Trixie’s head rises from between Katya’s legs, complete with a huge, shit-eating grin. “Say that again.”

“ _Please_

__

There are wet slopping sounds as Trixie nuzzles through Katya’s pussy, dragging her tongue over Katya’s hole and lapping at her wetness, sucking deep kisses over her clit and wrapping her lips round it. She runs her teeth over and around it, grinning when she feels Katya squirming underneath her. She sucks deeply, pushes two fingers into Katya’s dripping cunt and pumps hard, feels come coating her fingers as she flicks her tongue over Katya’s clit over and over, draws her orgasm out of her with a guttural groan. They roll apart, breathing heavily, both grinning ear to ear, under boobs slick with sweat. The quiet is broken by a shrill sound blaring from Katya’s phone.

__

“Hello?” she rasps, rolling her neck out. Then her shoulders square, her spine stiffens, and she clings herself off the bed and over to a heavy set of oak drawers in the corner of the room. “No problem Sir. ETA of fifteen minutes.” She drops the phone on the bed, and runs to press a quick kiss to Trixie’s lips as she wrestles her feet into a pair of boxers. “Help yourself to whatever you need. I’ll call you later.” She spins round in the doorway and salutes with a big smile. “Gotta go be a hero!” And then she’s gone.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me and with this! I promise promise PROMISE they’ll be more lawyer fic soon!  
> Lmk your thoughts :)  
> Oh and here’s Trixie’s lingerie: https://www.bluebella.us/collections/lingerie/products/more-aviana-bra-cordovan


End file.
